Tangled Sheets
by M2S
Summary: Post Grave Danger. Nick and Sara try dealing with the aftermath. Ch. 5 up. Complete.
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: Don't own them, but I have some ideas for next season if TPTB are listening.

A/N:Post Grave Danger. Nick and Sara try to deal with the aftermath. Not too fluffy, I hope. I am trying to go for more angst. Let me know how I am doing!

* * *

_They lay in a tangle of sheets and limbs. The room was hot and sticky, but she didn't want to move away from him. The ceiling fan turned lazily, as if the heat affected it as well. He was fiery hot, like a human generator. It always surprised her how hot he got when he slept. Now that it was a more frequent occurrence for them to be sleeping together, she found herself drawn to his side, claiming the heat he put off. But sometime during the morning, the air conditioning had gone on the fritz, and now the room was stifling. Yet she still lay entangled in his arms._

_He slept better when she was there. He had told her that much one day, as they had sat drinking vodka tonics and waiting for the charcoal to smolder in the grill. She hadn't told him that she slept better too. She hadn't admitted to herself how many days she had lain awake, trying not to remember the nightmares she had. She read, she redecorated, she worked, but she did not sleep much, until now._

After he had come out of the hospital, he had gone home to Texas for a couple of weeks. They had all wondered if he would come back. If it had been about anyone else, she was sure an office pool would have been started. But this was Nick, and everyone wanted him to come back. Everyone wanted him to be OK. When he made it back to Vegas, each one of them had taken turns going by his house and hanging out. Maybe not every day, and sometimes they did it in groups. It wasn't an organized deal; everyone needed to see him, and he needed to be seen. One morning it had just been her going by after shift. She had the next night off, so she was in no hurry to leave once she got there.

Nick had invited her in, and she could recognize the signs of no sleep. The ant bites were gone, and from the outside he looked like the same guy, but the optimism, the openness that he normally exuded was absent. She recognized that too. She had been way down before, and it had taken a while to climb back up. She had opened a couple of beers and they had sat out on Nick's small deck, taking in the morning sun. It was a comfortable silence, but she wasn't used to him being so silent.

"I know you know about the drinking and driving that I almost got busted for," she said, calmly. It was a fact. She had dealt with it. The drinking hadn't been the problem. It was the symptom. Nick looked over at her in surprise. He had heard some things, but he had never asked. He figured she would tell him if she wanted.

"I had heard some bullshit when you went on that extended vacation," he said, and tried not to look at the beer she was holding.

"It's not booze I have a problem with. It's unresolved feelings. And I lead myself into a lot of unresolved situations," she said. "But I'm learning how to deal with that. I guess what I am trying to say is that this is a deep canyon, but if you look up, you can still see the sky." She snorted derisively. "Listen to me, talking in platitudes. I was hoping to help you, but I'm not sure if I'm doing it right."

"I'm glad you are trying," Nick said with a wan smile and reached over and squeezed her hand. To her surprise, he didn't let go. "I'm glad you've made it through the canyon. I just can't help feeling like I'm wimping out. You had a tough experience, out there at the mental hospital, but I didn't see you taking a shit-load of your built up vacation off." He let go of her hand and brought his own hand up to his head. He rubbed the back of his neck and sighed.

"Yeah, well, I wasn't holed up it a Plexiglas coffin covered in ants for more than 12 hours," she said sarcastically, before she thought. It had sounded callous and flippant as she said it, and she had opened her mouth to say she was sorry when she heard an odd sound. Nick was laughing.

"When you put it that way . . . " he said, and continued chuckling. It wasn't a hearty guffaw, but it gave Sara hope.

"If it had been Warrick in that coffin, would you expect him to be back at work yet?" she asked pointedly. Nick looked into her eyes fiercely.

"It wasn't Warrick," he said, a little hoarsely.

"No, Nick, it wasn't Warrick. For some suck-ass reason, it was you." Sara thought about what she had just said. Maybe the beer and no sleep were getting to her. "That didn't come out right. I'm glad it wasn't Warrick. No, well, I'm not glad it was you . . . " she said, fumbling over her words. She couldn't seem to say anything right. But now Nick was laughing, and that was music to her tired ears.

"Sara, who would you have liked it to have been?" Nick asked. He was still smiling.

"Nobody. Not even Sofia or Ecklie," she said quietly. Nick nodded, his smile gone. "Nick, you've gone through so much, and you've always come through it with flying colors. I have always wished I could have a little of your evergreen optimism, and I hate to think that this is going to diminish it."

"There's just been so much. Stalkers, perps with guns drawn on me, and Kristy," he said. "And that's just been this job, the last five years. Not to mention all the cases with kids." The laughter was gone again. "I don't know if I can go back to it. I don't see how Greg went back after the explosion."

"Me neither," said Sara, and she drained the last of her beer.

"But I don't fit in back home anymore. I found out when I went those two weeks. It was great, but it just wasn't right," he said, sighing heavily.

"You can never go home again," she said.

"Spoken by a woman who knows, huh? So what's your deal Sara? You never talk about home," he said. Her face was stoic, but he could see the conflicting emotions in her eyes.

"That's because I don't have one," she said, standing and grabbing his empty beer bottle. "You want another?"

"I'll get it. Let's go in, anyway. It's starting to get hot." Nick wondered at the absence of emotion on her face. For a moment at least, he wasn't thinking about ants, dirt and enclosed spaces. He was thinking of Sara.

So they had passed the morning with several beers, and Sara had told him bits and pieces about her childhood. It sounded idyllic. Bed and breakfast in Tamales Bay with hippie parents who let you run pretty freely. But he could tell she was holding back.

"What happened?" he asked. Sara didn't want to tell him, but there was something in his manner that reminded her of the Nick before the burial. She could see why he always got interviewees to talk when he questioned them. So she told him.

"My mother stabbed my father. To death. I went to foster care for my high school career, and she went to prison. There were a lot of nights I lay awake listening to them fighting, but I'll never forget that one." There were none of the tears that had come when she told Grissom. She said it as dispassionately as possible, but her eyes trembled with emotion.

"My God. Sara, I don't know what to say." He wanted to hug her, or something, but she looked as if she would break if moved. He wondered if that is how he had looked when he first came out of the hospital, like a fragile shell. He wondered if that was how he had looked after the baby sitter had left that night in his childhood. He knew that he had wanted nothing more than to be held and told that everything was going to be all right. Of course, he couldn't make that promise to Sara, but he could hold her.

She was sitting on the opposite end of the couch from him, her left arm leaning on the armrest, her right hand languidly holding her empty bottle. She was looking straight ahead, trying not to cry, he thought. He slid over next to her and took the bottle from her hand, set it on the floor, and pulled her into a tight hug. She was stiff at first, but then he felt her arms tight around him as well. They sat like that for a little while, Nick rocking her ever so slightly and patting her back as she shed silent tears. She pulled away and hid her face from him, hastily wiping the tears with her fingers.

"Wow. I am so bad at this. I'm supposed to be helping you out, not showing what a crybaby I am," she said. He touched her gently on the chin and pulled her face around to him. He wiped the trails of her tears with his thumbs. He continued to hold her cheek with his right hand while he rubbed her shoulder with his left.

"You have got to be the strongest person I know," he said. "And you are helping, just by being here, and by sharing yourself with me. I'm lucky to have a friend like you." He leaned in and kissed her on the cheek, hugging her to him again. Sara hadn't felt quite so vulnerable in quite a while, even at the mental institution when the pottery shard had been held to her throat. At the same time, Nick's presence was reassuring. How could he be so caring of others when he had just come through so much?

Nick felt good to be holding onto Sara. It felt good to feel something other than scared, depressed, and confused. This was what he did. He always rescued the damsel in distress. It was the only way he could rescue himself. He pulled back from her slightly, intending to say something. But instead he had kissed her, and the kiss had turned desperate and greedy. The need for her mouth on his was akin to his need to be out of the coffin that terrible night. Vague warnings signaled in the back of his mind, but the release of feeling something, anything was too strong for him to overcome.

She was surprised when Nick kissed her. When his kiss had grown so insistent, she had been a little scared. Her body had betrayed her mind. Human contact is a basic need, as fundamental as food and water. She tended to sell herself short of all three. Though her mind was alerting her to all the reasons why this was not a good idea, she found herself returning his kiss, with vigor. Her need was as desperate and greedy as his. Why did she let herself go without much in the way of touch?

And so they had found themselves clinging together in a tangle of clothing and limbs on his living room rug. They lay in stunned silence, reason returning as the fog of hormones and emotion receded. She was scared to say anything or to even open her eyes back up as she felt his weight shift off of her to the floor beside her. The fear of what could come next cut deeply through the post-orgasmic languor that wanted to take hold of her.

"I know this is a little late to be asking, but are you on any kind of birth control?" he asked softly. She finally opened her eyes and turned her head to him. He was as close to the old Nick as she had seen him. He even had a bit of a smirk on his face.

"Actually, I am, now that you ask. Any diseases I should know of?" she replied, her lips twisting to keep from smiling. He shook his head to say no and they both started laughing nervously. He ran his hand over her exposed abdomen. She started to push it away, but the flutters it created all over her body were too delicious.

"Would you like to take a shower? Maybe retire to my bedroom?" he asked, kissing her neck.

"Nick, I don't know . . . " she started to say. He put his hand on her cheek.

"We can overanalyze and worry tomorrow," he said. "Today, let's just be." He said it as a statement, but his warm brown eyes were questioning her. If she had ever trusted anyone, it was Nick. And if anyone needed a night to "just be," they did. She only nodded her assent.

They had showered and gone to his bed, taking time to savor and explore. She welcomed the absence of thought and logic. She gave herself over to total feeling, to the moment. Afterwards she felt refreshed, as if she had awoken from a long sleep. Maybe her brain had needed to decompress. She fought the urge to ask him one hundred questions as to where this might take them. He was laying there, peacefully dozing. She knew he had probably not done that in a while. She pushed the analytical part of her aside, and gave herself over to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

* * *

Nick woke with a start and sat straight up in the bed, clasping his hands over his mouth to stifle the screams that were on the verge of spewing forth. He was shaking and breathing in sharp, panicked breaths. He couldn't get enough air.

"Are you OK?" she asked sleepily. She ran a hand up his trembling back. Sara was there in his bed. He had forgotten, though it all came rushing back to him now. He smiled in the dark, even though the nightmare still had him edgy.

"Just a dream. I usually go in the living room and turn on the TV," he said, moving to put on some pajama pants laying near the bed. She sat up and put her arms around him. The feel of her warm skin against his back was comforting.

"Lay back down with me," she said, pulling him down to the bed. "We can talk about it if you need to." He did lay down and let her soothe him with her hands. Surprisingly, he felt his heart slowing to a normal rate and his breathing became deeper and relaxed. The nightmare was actually fading a little, though not much. It made it so much easier to have someone with him. They talked in slow, gentle murmurs until they both went back to sleep.

She woke up the next evening with a clear head. She always knew exactly where she was when she woke up. It was a trait that had served her well as a child, when hiding and sleeping in unlikely locations had been a survival mechanism. She looked at Nick's clock and was surprised to see that she had slept more than eight hours. It was unheard of for her. She was sore from sleeping so hard. She thought about how she and Nick had passed the morning and decided the soreness might come from some other activities as well. She moved quietly out of the bed, careful not to disturb him. If the nightmare he had with her was any indication of what had been happening to him, he needed the rest. He looked pleasant in his sleep.

She doubted that it was a recommended therapy by psychoanalysts, but if Nick's unfurrowed brow was any sign, a good screw did wonders for the wounded psyche. She looked at herself in the mirror. Her own mood was very bright. She didn't know if it was the sleep or the sex.

Nick had said they would overanalyze and worry today. She was getting a head start without him. It was obvious that they had both benefitted from the carnal activities they had engaged in. She loved Nick, as a friend, but did she feel another way toward him? Was this just a friendly fuck? Sara wasn't a prude, but she wasn't sure if she was into such casual sex.

But then, what had really been casual about it? It had been a natural outgrowth of two friends bonding and sharing pain.

"Yeah, right," she said to herself. "I don't see Warrick's clothes lying in a heap in the bedroom." For a moment she stopped and laughed at the thought. She wished she could talk to someone about this. Catherine would be the perfect person if she didn't have her head so far up her own ass right now. Sara was sure Catherine had managed some friendly screwing around in the past. Sara would never share this with her. What about Greg? They had grown close over the past months, but even Greg might not understand the dynamic. Hell, she didn't understand the dynamic. She got dressed and left Nick a note on the kitchen counter. She wasn't sure she was ready to hear his side of the story yet.

Nick woke to hear Sara's GMC pulling out of his driveway. He looked at the time and realized he had slept better than he had since being kidnapped. He was a little glad that Sara had left without waking him. Then he was guilty for being glad. As of right now, he wasn't sure where they stood. All he knew was that he would be grateful if this was a one time occurrence. He would be more grateful if they could continue being friends. And if this was to happen again, well, he would cross that bridge when he came to it.

He padded into the kitchen, thankful that Catherine hadn't come by on her way to work, as she sometimes did. He snagged a diet Pepsi out of the refrigerator and read the note Sara had left on his counter.

"I've left to overanalyze and worry. Call me or don't," it said. Sara was so blunt. He smiled to himself when he saw the disarray of the couch pillows. He thought of his bed, rumpled all over instead of just where he slept. He knew she hadn't had time to arrive at her house, so he called and left a message on her answering machine.

"Come after while, if you'd like. It'll be safe. Warrick is supposed to come by and eat breakfast. You can join us. And thanks, you know. Just thanks," he said and hung up the phone. Was that the lamest thing ever, to thank her? He had meant for coming by and trying to make him feel better and for settling him down after his dreams. He hoped she didn't take it as for sleeping with him. He called back. " I meant everything, and not just the, well. Anyway, thanks for being there for me." He hung up and felt lamer than he had before. "What a dumb ass I am," he said out loud. "So much for being erudite and debonair," he thought.

When the knock came on his door several hours later, he thought it was Warrick. He had yet to put a fresh shirt on, so he opened the door in his jeans, shirtless and shoeless, to Sara. She tried to suppress a grin when she saw him.

"Is this how you always greet Warrick?" she asked. He smiled sheepishly. He looked like an entirely different man than the evening before. It was amazing what rest could do for you. She walked into his foyer as he held the door wide for her. "I thought you said it was safe. You're trying to seduce me, aren't you, Mr. Stokes." Nick blushed and chuckled.

"Let me get a shirt on," he said, walking down his hall. "Make yourself at home," he added. Sara wandered over to the couch, but looked down to where they had made love on the floor and thought better of it. Made love didn't really capture the rapacious, unthinking way they had behaved at that point. She wasn't sure it described their bedroom aerobics, either. She couldn't help but grin to herself. She was interrupted by a knock on the door.

Warrick was a little surprised to see her standing there, but not much. She must have been stopping by on her night off. What did surprise him was how good she looked. Though she had been doing much better in the last couple of months, since her blow up with Catherine, she was looking really good tonight.

"Hey girl. Good to see someone besides me here to keep Nicky company," he said. She thought again about Warrick's clothes being tossed on Nick's bedroom floor instead of hers and gave him a gap-toothed grin.

"Good to see you too," she said.

They had laughed and talked, and even Warrick commented on the difference in Nick, who chalked it up to a good night's rest. He didn't even look at Sara when he said it.

"In fact, I feel so much better, I am thinking of asking to come back to work next week," Nick said, surprising both Warrick and Sara. He did look at Sara then, and gave her a true, Nick Stokes million watt smile, which she returned.

Warrick left after an hour or so. Sara helped Nick clean up the kitchen and started to leave as well. Nick pulled her back from the door.

"Are we OK?" he asked. She loved to think that she had helped him come back in some small way.

"Yeah. We are. I've analyzed and thought, and you know what? No regrets, no looking back," she said. Nick looked doubtful. "Seriously, it was obviously something we both needed in some way. I doubt my PEAP counselor or yours would condone it as good therapy, but I feel better and you do as well."

"I slept better last night than I have since, you know, it happened," he admitted. He was glad Sara was being so logical about all of this. But then, what other way could Sara be. He hugged her tightly, proving to himself that they could be platonic friends again.

"So. No regrets, no looking back?" she asked him.

"No regrets. No looking back," he repeated. And she had left. That day, when the nightmares came, he lay in bed and thought about her warm skin and soft voice, and was able to fend the images away. But he dreamed it again, and again.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Sara and Nick deal with the aftermath of Grave Danger. I'm going for more angst and less fluff. Let me know how I'm doing.

* * *

Sara had a horrible case waiting on her that night at work. It felt like Grissom was testing her. This was the first case that dealt with raping and abuse that he had let her work alone. The victim was a 15-year-old girl. And of course, by alone, Sara meant with Greg. She both hated and appreciated that Grissom was giving her point on this case. She hated it because she knew he was testingher. She appreciated because it showed he was willing to work with her. Then she was angry with herself for appreciating and wanting his approval.

It was a routine case as far as evidence went. They had the DNA. They had fingerprints. They had trace. They even had surveillance tape from a KwikE Mart. A suspect was what they didn't have. The detectives would take care of that soon, she hoped. She had been absolutely professional at work, even when dealing with Catherine. They had both wanted Archie's services and Catherine was ready to blow up on Sara. So Sara had taken the high road and back off. Nick would have been proud.

Nick. Just the thought of him made her feel a little better. If anyone would understand how tough it had been to look at that girl's body on the autopsy table, it would be Nick. She had handled work well. Grissom would be proud. But now she wasn't in the lab, and she didn't have to be professional. The dark feelings that threatened to take over were looming. Nick would understand the need not to be alone with those feelings.

She stared to dial his number, and thought the better of it. It was quite presumptuous of her to call and expect to go right back to being best buds after what had happened between them. She knew she had told Nick that she had no regrets. That was true. But she knew it would be awkward between them, especially if they wereby themselves. She snapped her cell phone shut, and then dropped it when it vibrated in her hand.

"Dammit!" she exclaimed and grabbed the still vibrating phone up out of her floor board. She quickly jerked it open and answered breathlessly, "Sidle."

"Hey, I was prepared to leave a message," a familiar voice said. "You all right? You sound out of breath."

"I'm fine, just dropped the phone. This is weird. I was just thinking of calling you," she admitted. Nick's voice was a little strained. He didn't sound as rested as he had before she came into work. "Are you OK?" she asked.

"Yeah," he answered, too brightly to her ears. "I was wondering if you felt like meeting me at the diner."

"That would be cool. I'll turn around up here and come back," she said, already using her turn signal.

"Well, if you are already past it, you could come to the house. If you want to," he said. Sara heard the hesitation in his voice and understood. She knew that they were going to have to get over this sooner rather than later.

"That's fine," she said. "You need me to stop and get anything?" He sounded relieved at her answer. Sara stopped and got a carton of eggs and a couple of diet Pepsis and continued on to Nick's house. What harm was there in that?

They had ended up sleeping together, again. Sara lay in Nick's bed contemplating his profile. His eyes were closed, but she wasn't sure that he was sleeping. How in the hell had they let this happen? A couple of orgasms, and now she had become a nymphomaniac. At least, that is how she felt. Even now, she wanted to reach out and stroke his face, his rock hard abs, his . . .

She had brought the carton of eggs and Pepsis into the house. Nick was waiting and she could tell he was more haggard than the day before. She wondered if he could even close his eyes without feeling like the dirt was falling in around him. Nick, as usual, was concerned about her.

"You look a little down Sara. Tough shift?" he had asked. She sat at his kitchen table, pulling at the label on the soft drink. She had ended up telling him everything. She told him about the case, really mundane as far as evidence collection went. She told him about her suspicions that Grissom was testing her. And she told him about trying not to break down at the autopsy with Doc Robbins. By the time she had gotten to that part, Nick had her breakfast in front of her. He sat down and held her hand. Just his touch caused the tears and anger she had fought all day to well up inside.

"Here I go again. Crying on your shoulder," she said, angrily wiping the tears away. "It's just that it was so obvious she had fought really hard. The defensive wounds told the story."

"You've got to quit beating yourself up over being human," Nick said. "You need to cry sometimes. Just let it out. And if you trust me enough to let me be the one to see it, I'm proud."

"You are something else, Nick. All that you are going through, and you have to comfort me," Sara shook her head. "I can tell you didn't sleep well last night," she offered, wanting to hear him speak, to return the favor.

"It's the same old shit," he said, wearily. "That stupid song is playing in the background. Sometimes I'm on the autopsy table. Sometimes I'm in the ground. Last night, Warrick was in the coffin, and I was piling the dirt on him," he said, standing and looking out the window at the Vegas morning. The desert sun was already heating the day up. He didn't tell her that he had dreamed of her staring at him when he was on the autopsy table. He didn't tell her that she had helped him up from the slab. "I haven't had nightmares like this since I was a kid."

He looked like a child, forlorn and a little bit lost. She came up behind him and put her arms around his waist. She had never been one to offer physical comfort, but Nick needed it. They stood for a little bit, her arms around his waist and her head laying against his shoulder. He had leaned his head down so that their temples were touching, and he brought his hand up to rub her arms.

The nearness to him was giving Sara butterflies in her stomach. The smell of Nick, some combination of shampoo, soap, and cologne, was bringing backheated memories of what they had done in the bedroom right down the hall. Those thoughts were causing interesting warmth all through her body. She willed herself to stop, but it made no difference. Her body had won over her mind before, and the victory had only made it stronger. She seemed to have no willpower. She stood straighter, but kept her hands on Nick's torso. He straightened up as well, still gazing out at the morning. She licked her lips and thought about how soft, but strong his hands had been.

"You've got to stop this," she told herself, but she wasn't listening. She could tell her breathing was a little shallower than before. She hoped Nick hadn't noticed. She fought the urge to run her hands over his chest, his stomach, all over him. She licked her lips again and gazed at his neck. The skin was browner here than on his body, she knew. She wanted to taste him again, that combination of salt and cologne on his neck that she recalled from before. She kissed his neck, and allowed her hands to roam up onto his chest and back down to his waist. She felt him stiffen at first. Then he relaxed and uttered a low murmur. He turned to face her.

"Sara," he started to say, but she silenced him with an intense kiss. He let her kiss him, holding her close. When she stopped and looked up at him with those brown eyes, eyes pooled with more sadness than she let on, he wasn't sure what to say. Did he want to stop? No, he knew he wanted to go as far as she would let him. But he wanted to give her the option.

"Sara," he said again. Those liquid eyes were looking into his beseechingly.

"I need this," she had said. "Don't you?" He knew he did. More than that, he knew he wanted it. He answered her by kissing her hard and walking her backwards toward his bedroom. As they had begun undressing, Sara had stopped and held his face in her hands.

"No regrets. No looking back," she had said.

Now she lay there, looking at his profile, at little perplexed and doubtful. Had she totally screwed their friendship up this time? He was still, lying on his back with his arms behind his head. Maybe this was a different kind of friendship. She thought it was time for her to head home. She moved slowly off the bed, trying not to disturb him. She had gotten her panties on and was still fumbling with her bra when she felt his hand on her back.

"Stay," he said. She quit trying to fasten her bra. She turned to look at him. He looked tired and a little rumpled. "Stay," he repeated. She let her bra fall to the floor and rolled back into bed beside him. He smiled and pulled the covers over them.

"Set the alarm so I can go to work," was all she said.

They held each other through the night and fought the nightmares sure to come.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for all of the kind reviews. Sorry for the tech glitch with Ch 1&2. I have reloaded, so hopefully it is corrected. I have at least one more chapter planned. Thanks for sticking with me!

Kristen999: thanks for your kind words!


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I don't own them.

A/N: I lied - there will be one more chapter after this. Thanks for everyone who has stuck with me as I try my hand at angst. Thanks for all the kind reviews.

* * *

Sara woke to the strident sounds of Nick's alarm clock. She was warm in his embrace. She felt a chill when he rolled over and hit the snooze button. He returned to his spoon position behind her and wrapped an arm back across her waist.

"You getting up?' he asked drowsily.

"Maybe," she said. She couldn't believe how well she had slept through the day, considering. Nightmares had come for both of them. Nick's had come in great panicking gasps, sitting him straight up in the bed. He had lain awake for a little while, listening to Sara's breathing as she stroked him. Finally, he was able to go back to sleep.

Sara's nightmare was stealthy. It had started pleasantly enough as a picnic in an area that reminded her of Tamales Bay. She could see Nick in the distance, walking toward her. When she had looked down at the food, it was rotten and infested with maggots. Looking back up, a storm raged across the bay, and her only companions were the dead girl from her case, and Gil Grissom. Gil's face was ashen and a huge bloody stain was seeping across his shirt. Sara held a knife in her hand. She recognized the knife as being one from the set her mother had in the kitchen of the bed and breakfast from her childhood.

She had willed herself awake and lay still, curled slightly into herself, intentionally taking deep breaths. She rolled over and found herself seeking Nick's warmth. The feel of another heartbeat under her hands did more to calm her than a hundred breathing exercises. Her counselor had it all wrong.

Now she was lying with Nick, listening to the sound of his alarm clock again. She pulled herself away from him and made her way to his bathroom. She heard him silence the clock and get out of the bed. She was glad she had a change of underwear and a different shirt in her bag. Greg would definitely notice the same shirt for two days. She looked at herself in the mirror. She looked more rested, fresher than she had in weeks, maybe months. So why wasn't she elated in the fact? She showered under water as hot as she could stand, hoping to scrub away the feeling that she was using Nick, or allowing herself to be used. If they were using each other, what was the problem? But she didn't want to rationalize it away. All she knew was that she had awakened a desire to touch and be touched that she had forced into hiding for a long time.

She got out of the shower and dressed, walking down the hall and into Nick's kitchen. A familiar smell tempted her.

"Is that Greg's Blue Hawaiian?" she asked. Nick handed her a large travel mug of coffee.

"He gave me a bag as a coming home present," Nick said. "I never brew coffee when it's just for me. I can't drink all of it."

"Oh man. Greg sure does know his coffee," Sara murmured, taking a sip of the pungent brew. Nick handed her a small brown bag.

"I packed you a couple of snacks," he said. Sara thought he might be blushing a bit. "It's just an apple, an orange and a PB&J, but I thought you might want something as you drove into work."

"Thank you," Sara said, unsure of what to say next. "Nick, about..." she started.

"We'll work it all out later," he said. The way he said it let Sara know that he was as confused about what to do next as she was. She was glad that he didn't have it figured out, but a small part of her wanted to be told in which direction to go. She felt that logically, they should quit before it got out of hand. But even now, as he stood before her, bare-chested in his boxer shorts and no shoes, she felt a tremulous wave of desire.

"Maybe we could meet at the diner after shift," she suggested in a light voice. It was a voice that was incredibly fake to her own ears. She tried to look as nonchalant as possible.

"Uh, I've got a meeting with Ecklie at 8:30 in the morning. You know, about coming back," he said. She thought he sounded just the slightest bit relieved. Then again, she might have been projecting her feelings onto him.

"That's great," she said, and she did mean that sincerely. She smiled at him.

"Yeah, we'll see," Nick said, but he was smiling in return. For a minute, the awkwardness was gone.

"So, maybe I'll see you at the lab in the morning," she said as she walked to the door. Nick trailed behind her. "I'm sure Greg and Griss, even Hodges would love to see you."

"Yeah, maybe. Good luck with your case," he said. Sara was reminded of the nightmare, and the way Nick's warm body anchored her in the night. She could feel her face flushing.

"Thanks," she said and hopped into her Denali. She didn't look back to see Nick watching her drive away. He closed the door and went back inside.

"We have messed this up so badly," he said to himself. The walls wouldn't disagree.

Nick's meeting with Ecklie went well. Though Conrad had been a poor motivator of his workers, he was well advised in the ways of bureaucracy. He guided Nick ably through the motions of getting back to work. Nick was relieved that his days of sick leave were coming to an end.

"We'll probably ease you back into it Nick," Ecklie had said. Nick had given him a disappointed look. "It's not that we don't think you are capable," Ecklie said. "We want to make damn sure that we don't make some of the same mistakes we have made with people in the past. I am trying to do a better job of managing some of these issues. We don't want to lose good CSI's like you to burn out.

Nick wondered if Ecklie was talking about Sara. He hadn't seen her when he came into the office. Now, as he wandered toward Grissom's office, he thought she might have bailed out to avoid him. He couldn't say that he blamed her. Again he thought about how badly they had screwed their friendship up. He wondered if a few nights of easier sleeping was worth a good friend. At least Grissomhad been pleased to see him.

"You just missed Sara," he said. "I don't know how you didn't seeher in the hall." Nick was pretty sure he knew. She had seen him coming and gone the other way. A pang of loss fired through him. He pushed it away and smiled at his former supervisor.

It went that way for a week. He called her cell, but never left a message. He thought once she had rode by his house. He counted the minutes until he was able to come back to work. His nightmares returned with a vengeance, and even the thoughts of an aggressive Sara in his bed did nothing to abate them. He thought about getting a dog, just to hear the sound of some other living thing in his house. Hell, he might even let it sleep in the bed with him.

His first night of work finally came. He was eager to get back into the game. Catherine and Warrick greeted him with hugs and doughnuts in the break room. They gave him cold case files to read over. He logged evidence and hounded the techs for lab results. He did go out with Cath on a routine B&E. He felt weird to be back in the field. Every dark corner spooked him, though he did not show it. He didn't want anyone to doubt his ability, especially himself. At the end of the evening, he felt a huge sense of accomplishment.

"Hey, I made it through the shift without being kidnapped, and I didn't run screaming from evidence bags or piles of dirt," he told Catherine. "I feel like I'm making progress," he said, and they had laughed. Catherine didn't know just how serious he was under the banter and wide smile.

"Just for that, Warrick and I are taking you out to breakfast," she said.

"Greg and Sara just pulled a triple. I am going to see if they want to go as well," said Warrick. Nick was surprised that Catherine didn't balk, but she just smiled. Things had changed in his absence. At least this change was good.

Nick's stomach gave a small lurch at the sight of Sara ambling at Greg's side. She looked tired, and Nick thought he saw the smallest hint of tears in her brown eyes.

"Nicky!" Greg exclaimed and caught Nick in a bear hug. The younger man looked exhausted as well, but nothing seemed to wear out his mood.

"G! You been working out," Nick said from the crushing grip Greg had on him. "Bout time," he added as Greg stepped away grinning.

"I thought if I beefed up a little, Sara might finally see the error of her ways and fall for me," Greg said. Sara rolled her eyes and him and smiled a tired smile.

"Nick," she said quietly, and stepped forward to hug him. He felt like everyone's eyes were on them. "It's good to see you back at the lab," she said into his ear.

"It's good to be back," he said, releasing her. Her body had felt stiff compared to the embraces they had shared a week before, when she had been pliant and willing in his arms. The tension between them was only slightly less than it had been the morning he had last seen her. He wondered if any of their friends noticed.

They had gone to the diner and sat in a large semi-circular booth. Nick had gotten caught between Warrick and Catherine. Sara sat on the opposite side of Warrick and Greg was on her right. Warrick had put his arm around Sara's shoulder at one point and stretched it all the way to Greg.

"Heard that was a tough case," he said to both. Sara didn't say anything. She only stared at her vegetable omelet. Warrick had patted Greg on the back and then squeezed Sara lightly.

"Bad case all around," Greg said. The somber notes in his usually upbeat voice said more than his words. Nick had a flash of insight.

"The 15 year old girl," he said. Sara looked up at him, surprised. He saw the glimmer of tears in her eyes. Then he saw her steel herself and push them back. His heart went out to her.

"Yeah," Greg said. "It was her mother's boyfriend. Sold her to some dude to wipe out his drug debts. The mother knew. Didn't want to tell us at first because she was so terrified of the boyfriend. Bad case all around," he repeated. "Sara threw her worst bad cop on the mother in the interrogation room with Brass. It was like bad cop and super bad cop," Greg said, grinning. Nick wondered how he could be so obtuseto how this was affecting Sara. No one else at the table seemed to realize it either.

Warrick got up to go to the rest room. When he came back, he squeezed in beside Catherine to keep from making everyone get up. Nick and Sara sat side-by-side, stiff as boards. Nick wished he had the guts to put his arm around her as easily as Warrick had earlier. He worried that she would take it the wrong way.

When he watched her pay her bill and walk out to the truck, it was like watching a shadow of the real Sara. He decided to follow her home, to make sure she made it.

She climbed into the SUV and drove a couple of blocks when she noticed Nick behind her. He missed his turn and continued following her. She called his cell phone.

"What the hell are you doing?" she demanded. It came out harsher than she had intended, but the combination of the case and seeing Nick again had taken its toll on her emotions.

"I'm making sure you get home safely," he replied, as if it were the most reasonable thing in the world. Sara couldn't think of a reason why it wasn't, but it still fired her raw emotions.

"You don't have to baby sit me," she spat and shut the cell phone. Part of her felt vindicated. The other part felt guilty for being so mean. She was as much to blame for this tension between them as he was. Nick was still following her in the rearview mirror. She fumed for a couple more blocks.

"Be reasonable," a small voice pleaded in her head. "He's being an adult about this situation. You are the one that has been avoiding him like a middle school student. Looks like another one of those unresolved situations to me," the voice added. It sounded suspiciously like her counselor. "True," Sara admitted to herself. She looked back at Nick's Denali in the rearview mirror. She dialed him again.

"I'm not going to quit following you just because you hung up on me," he said. Sara was a little perturbed at how amiable he sounded.

"I was calling to apologize," she said. Her tone was not apologetic.

"Wow. That's really out of character," Nick said, and laughed. He did not hear laughter on the other end of the line. "It was a joke, Sara."

"I know. But it's a true joke," she returned. She felt on the verge of tears. "It's been a really tough 36 hours," she said, her voice betraying her with a tiny crack.

"I know it's been rough. That's why I wanted to follow you," he said. That did make her break down and sob. She ended the call and cried through two blocks. When she pulled into the parking lot at her home, she forced herself to breathe calmly and wiped the tears away. She needed to appear strong. If she appeared strong, she could be strong.

She got out of her vehicle and waved to Nick, who had pulled into another parking place. She could tell he had a concerned look on his face. She straightened up and walked purposefully into her townhouse. She had managed to wash her face and put on her pajama bottoms and a t-shirt when a knock sounded at her door. She knew who it was before she opened it.

"We've got to get over this," Nick said when he walked into the room. "I can't see you like this and not help. If you need to tell me about the case and cry all night, then fine. But we have got to go back to talking. Maybe we screwed up a little bit, but we can work this out." He was standing with his hands on his hips, talking to the wall behind her. He was not meeting her eyes. She wondered if he had practiced this speech in the truck and then gotten the nerve to come to her door. She would have never been able to do it. He finally looked at her. She was surprised at the rush of feeling that came with looking into his eyes. She stepped forward and kissed him passionately. Nick pulled away, angered.

"You can't do this," he said in a low voice. This time Sara was the one avoiding eye contact. "You can't sleep with me and then avoid me for a week. It's not fair."

"I know. I know," she said. "I keep thinking of death and betrayal, and the only thing that takes it away seems to be us having sex. It's that or booze, I guess," Sara said. She knew she was using Nick to anesthetize her pain. At first she had rationalized that she had done it for him, to help him through a bad time, but she knew that her real reasons were all selfish.

Nick was fighting with himself. The desire to hold Sara, to cling to her through the nightmares was overwhelming. He knew that he could fight the fear if he could feel her beside him. At the same time, he wanted to grab her and shake her senseless for treating him the way she had.

"You can't jerk me around like this Sara. I have been your friend for a long time. I can't take this if you are going to avoid me for two weeks, then let me come back around like a toy." He felt hot tears prickling at his eyes. "If you want to fuck, fine," he said, dramatically pulling his t-shirt over his head and throwing it on the floor. "Fuck me five ways 'til Sunday. But let's just call a spade a spade and admit that we are going to do that. Then maybe we can quit dancing around each other on eggshells." By this time, he had pulled his shoes off and thrown them harshly against her floor. He shucked his jeans and stood in his boxers and socks in her living room. "Maybe then we can go back to being friends," he said.

Sara should have felt remorse. She thought she should probably feel a little guilty for treating Nick as she had for the past week, and she did. But something about the sight of him standing in her home in his underwear, glaring at her, struck her frayed nerves as funny. She tried to stifle them, but the giggles came through the hands covering her mouth.

"What the hell is so funny?" Nick demanded.

"Five ways 'til Sunday?" Sara said between giggles. She walked over to Nick and put her arms around him. He stiffened at her embrace. They stood like that for a few moments.

"I am sorry about treating you like this," she said. She felt Nick's arms tighten around her. He sighed noisily.

"I know you are. I know you're fighting fears just like I am," he answered. "I don't want to lose what we had before. I don't want to be all about screwing around. You need to talk to me. We need to be able to talk to each other."

"What if it's only partially about screwing around?" Sara said. Was the idea of having a friendship that involved sex so disastrous?

"I don't know," he said. Nick would admit privately that he had been a ladies' man, of a sort, at one time. He had changed as he had gotten older. Even in his younger days, he had never treated anyone in what he thought was a disrespectful manner. " I wouldn't feel right about using you," he said.

"Even if I'm using you too," Sara countered. She didn't dare look at him. She kept holding him tightly. She was afraid of what she might see in his face: rejection, disgust, or worse. "We would still be friends, but you know the old saying, friends with benefits," she said.

Nick felt his resolve crumbling. He wanted Sara. She was right; they had used each other. Was it so wrong to be there for each other in a different way? They weren't promising forever or even next week.

"We have to get over this embarrassment and guilt," he said. She could tell his resistance was fading away. She leaned back to look at his face, finally. She kissed him softly, a different kiss than any of the ones they had shared before.

"We're just friends," she said. She could see a smile beginning the crinkle the corners of his eyes.

"Friends that happen to fall into bed?" he asked, a touch sarcastically. He kissed her back in the same soft manner she had kissed him. It was a kiss of promise. The promise though, was of no need to promise.

"No regrets, no looking back," she said.

"Yeah, but you have to mean it this time," Nick said. He sighed and shook his head. She knew he had made his decision. "I guess we can't mess this up any more than we already have," he said. She had to agree with that statement.

Though Sara had never thought of herself as a particularly small person, Nick swooped her up into his arms as if she were nothing. He carried her across the living room to where he knew her bedroom was.

"Where are you taking me?" she asked, flirtatiously.

"I am going to show you five ways 'til Sunday."

1:00 pm came too early for Nick. Just yesterday he had been itching to be back at work, in the swing of things. Now he lay in Sara's bed, thinking about where this was going. He thought he knew. It was going nowhere. He couldn't decide if he was OK with that or not. There was no doubting that he had slept better in her bed than he had in the past week. That included the fact that they had stayed up late talking about the case that had driven her to tears and his stymieing fear of every dark corner at the B&E.

He slipped out of bed and crept down the hall into her bathroom. He looked at himself in the mirror. They had decided to be friends with benefits. How long would this last? What if Sara met someone today who swept her off her feet? How would he make it through a day of sleeping then?

He went back into her bedroom to retrieve his socks and underwear. Sara rose up groggily from her bed.

"You leaving?" she asked. She had lain back down and pulled the pillow he had slept on to her like a child's teddy bear.

"Yeah, I've got to head home and get ready for work," he said pulling his boxers on. He sat on the edge of the bed. "Call me when you get up?" he asked.

"I'll just see you when I come in at 12," she said. She had closed her eyes again. The triple shift had taken a toll on her.

"You promise?" Nick placed a hand on her arm. "You promise you'll see me. I'll wait for you," he said. He was not going to let her pull the same trick as last week.

"I promise," she said. She opened her eyes. The awkwardness she thought she might feel was not as strong as before. The fact that they both knew this was just a more physical expression of their friendship had made a world of difference to Sara.

She kept her promise. She came in a little early and they shared a cup of coffee in the break room. Warrick had been there, and it had been easy. Every minute it seemed to get easier. She could tell Nick felt that way too.

"What are you doing after shift?" she asked.

"My man Nick and I are going to play some ball. It's been a while," Warrick said. Nick grinned at him. "We need to get a game going with you and Greg," Warrick said. Sara laughed.

"Have you seen Greg play ball?" she said.

"Have you seen Nick?" returned Warrick. Sara looked at Nick and smiled. She had seen Nick do a lot of things.

When they left, Nick had trailed Warrick out the door. He turned back and smiled at her.

"Call me, if you have a tough shift," he said. She had smiled back and nodded her head. This was going to work.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I don't own them, but I've got some good ideas for next season. TPTB need to start listening to me! HA!

A/N: Oh man. Some of you are not going to be happy with me, I am afraid. Just a warning, this does not have a clean ending. Like I said, I am going for angst, so here it is. I have already been kicking around some ideas for another story to follow this plot line, but I need some time to work it out in my head. Thanks for following with me until the end of this story!

* * *

They lay in a tangle of sheets and limbs. The room was hot and sticky, but she didn't want to move away from him. The ceiling fan turned lazily, as if the heat affected it as well. He was fiery hot, like a human generator. It always surprised her how hot he got when he slept. Now that it was a more frequent occurrence for them to be sleeping together, she found herself drawn to his side, claiming the heat he put off. But sometime during the morning, the air conditioning had gone on the fritz, and now the room was stifling. Yet she still lay entangled in his arms. 

He slept better when she was there. He had told her that as they had sat drinking vodka tonics and waiting for the charcoal to smolder in the grill. She hadn't told him that she slept better too. She hadn't admitted to herself how many days she had lain awake, trying not to remember the nightmares she had. She read, she redecorated, she worked, but she did not sleep much, until now.

Still, she thought he knew. So far they had made this work. She had wondered how easy it would be, and it had become much easier than she expected. They would see each other when the shifts overlapped. She would ask him one simple question.

"Tough shift?" She was always able to gauge whether she would be seeing him that morning by his answer. Going back into the field was harder on him than he was showing to his co-workers, but Sara knew. Sometimes he would be waiting at the diner that she passed on her way home, and sometimes he would be sitting at her townhouse. Sometimes they even went to a movie, or a ball game if they were both off the next evening. They had evengotten that game together with Warrick and Greg. It wasn't always about sex. Usually it was, but not always.

If he was not there waiting on her, she knew to expect his call. Then he would ask the question.

"Tough shift?"

It was their code. They would end up together two or three times a week, sometime more. She had no regrets about what they were doing. She did not look back and wonder what could have been, but she did look forward, and that was what bothered her. They had been living with their arrangement for over a month now, and she found herself looking forward, anticipating. She looked forward to seeing him sitting at the their table at the diner. She looked forward to going to the movies with him every couple of weeks. She had even found herself looking forward to asking him what color he thought they should paint her bedroom.

They. It was a dangerous word. It implied togetherness. She tried not to anticipate their next rendezvous, because it could all grind to a halt today, tomorrow, or next week. She knew the knowledge that she could call Nick or show up at his doorstep held her through some tense nights, and she worried. If she no longer had this safety net, how would she cope? How had she coped before? The answer was "not well", and she knew it.

She intentionally turned away from his prone form. Maybe she should begin weaning herself from his attentions. She got up and went to the bathroom for a cold shower. The heat was getting worse. Nick wandered into the bathroom and peed into the toilet. He then washed his hands, keeping the water on low flow, and leaned against the vanity.

"You're up early," he said.

"The heat," she answered from behind the shower curtain. The curtain had taken the place of a shower door, and it didn't fit the space very well. Nick just couldn't handle being in the shower with the door closed anymore.

"I need to call the heating and air guy," Nick said, yawning. His nightmares were more muted these days. He knew some of it was time, but they were always worse when Sara wasn't with him. He might even sleep all night when she lay in his bed.

"This is the second time this month," she said, and winced at the nagging sound in her voice.

"So, what are your plans this evening? Aren't you off?" he asked. He knew damn well she was off. She wasn't sure why it pissed her off for him to ask.

"I don't have any plans. You?" She actually had planned to shop around for some new clothes. Her favorite brown pants had gotten human goo on them last week. That was what Greg had called it, "human goo". She had also wanted to get Nick a new shower curtain; she hated this one.

"Not really. I need to buy some new sneakers. I've worn my others out whooping Warrick's ass on the basketball court." She laughed in spite of trying to be pissed at him, and then squealed when Nick joined her in the shower. She looked forward to soaping him up. There it was again, looking forward. "You want to ride with me?" he asked. He rubbed her back, and she knew she would go with him. Vague worry persisted in her mind. What if this ended? What if he met someone? What if she met someone? Nick interrupted her thoughts by reaching around her and turning the hot water up.

"You've got this way too cold," he said. He slid soapy hands around her stomach. She reached up and stroked the back of his neck. "What ifs" resonated in her mind. She worried that this was too comfortable.

They finally made it to the Denalis parked side by side in his driveway.

"Yours or mine," he joked, but he was already holding the passenger side door open for her on his truck. Chivalry would never die around Nick Stokes. As she sat in the seat, she noticed she had left a pair of sunglasses on the dash. She wondered if Catherine or Warrick had seen them. The worries circled her again. Her mood had shifted by the time he got in on his side of the SUV. They rode in silence for the first few minutes. Or at least, she was silent. Nick sang off key to a Kenny Chesnee song.

"Where are we going?' she asked. She hadn't meant to say it aloud. Nick gave her an odd look.

"To that mall you always like to go to," he said. It scared her that he even knew what mall she always liked to go to. They were acting like a couple, without making the commitments couples make. Did she even want to make those commitments? Maybe she wanted to know the option was there.

"I meant, where are we going, with this," she said, pointing to him and then to herself. Nick stopped singing and looked at her as if she had grown a third head.

"I don't know," he said. She thought he shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"If you met someone tomorrow, someone you really connected with, would you tell me?" she asked. It was a totally hypothetical question that was unfair considering they had said this would be friendship only.She asked it anyway.

"I don't know," he said again. "What's going on here? Do you want to quit this? Have you met someone?" he asked.

"No," she answered, too quickly for her liking. She thought Nick looked relieved. "I don't know. I'm having doubts," she admitted. "Not about this, about when it might end," she said. She was surprised at his answer.

"Me too," he said. He caught the look on her face. "Why are you surprised?"

"I figured this was every guy's dream. Tangle free, no strings attached sex," she said. Nick's face was disappointed and reproving when he looked over at her.

"I wouldn't say this is tangle free," he said. "From the beginning, I told you I wanted us to remain friends, and we have. Friendships are not tangle free."

"You never answered my question," she said. This was becoming less tangle free by the second.

"Yes I did. I said I didn't know," he protested.

"That's not an answer," she huffed. She knew she wasn't being fair to him. She had persuaded him into this, whatever it was, that morning in her living room weeks ago. Until then, it had only been a couple of incidences. "Not that it took a lot of persuading," she thought to herself.

"If Gil Grissom found the wherewithal to ask you out, would you tell me?" Nick asked quietly. Sara was dumbstruck. The unfairness of her question to him hit home when he turned it around like this.

"Gil would never ask me out," she said. She looked out the window.

"That's not what I asked you. I didn't ask if he would. I asked what if he did." Nick reached over and took her hand. She looked at him with tears in her eyes.

"I don't know," she said. Nick squeezed her hand. They were sitting in the parking lot of the mall. Everywhere Sara looked, she saw happy couples. She wondered if she and Nick looked like that, because they weren't. They weren't a couple. They were friends with benefits.

"So maybe we need a new rule," Nick said. "No regrets, no looking back and no what ifs." He ticked the three off with his fingers. "We'll go with this until something happens," he said. "Then we'll deal with that something, come what may."

"You've got it all planned out," she said. His optimistic attitude was bolstering her. In the end, Nick was really her best friend. And the benefits had been really, really nice.

"I told you. I had been having doubts too. The fact is, I'm getting to sleep with a great friend. How many guys can say that? Double bonus: it's not Warrick," Nick said. The way he said it made it seem like it was the most ordinary thing in the world. Sara laughed at the thought of Warrick in the SUV with Nick, holding hands.

What he didn't tell her was that he had worried over this same thing a lot of the nights he was alone. He was pretty sure Sara wasn't in love with him. He wasn't sure that he was in love with her. They had gotten themselves into this and he couldn't honestly say he wanted out at this moment. He loved seeing her at work and sharing a secret smile. He loved seeing a side of Sara that no one else knew. He knew she needed him almost as much as he needed her, and he needed her in an anxious way that he tried to hide. He was selfish, because without her, he wouldn't be back at work or functioning as well as he was. He hoped that if this were hurting Sara, he would be able to stop. In his heart, he was not sure that he could. Were these questions not an indication that this was hurting her in some small way?

He watched her as she watched people walking in and out of the mall. He could almost see her thoughts churning from the looks passing over her face. He breathed a sigh of relief inwardly when she turned to face him with a wide smile. Sara had decided to go with the flow.

"No regrets, no looking back," she said to him.

"No what ifs," he responded. He squeezed her hand and let it go. "Let's get our stuff," he said, taking the keys out of the ignition.

Sara watched him hop out of the SUV and forced her doubts down deep, below the warm feelings that accompanied being with Nick. They were OK, for now.

She would take the good where she could get it.

The End

* * *

A/N: OK, not a typical Snickers ending for those of you who prescribe to that sugary confection. I hope I haven't hurt any feelings badly! The positive reviews so far have been overwhelming. 

Meredith44: Thanks for your detailed review!

Jacinda: Cynical? Oh no, not me. OK, maybe. What does that say about me being married to my high school sweetheart?

Kristen999: Your comments are always welcomed. Thanks again.

Anushka: I hope you can take it if my next story isn't N/S! ;-)


End file.
